My name is Fang Cun and I own a bar, but I'm almost dying of worry.
Ever since a monkey named Sun Wukong came to the store, my painting style has completely gone astray.
He regarded my fire extinguisher as a "magic weapon that can spray white mist" and the radio as a "talking mechanism man".
I finally taught him to drink Coke, but he turned around and brought down the Jade Rabbit from Guanghan Palace to play "Glory of the King" with him.
This is not over yet.
Chang'e became obsessed with the world's clothes, Weaver Girl began to criticize the Victoria's Secret show, and even Li Tianwang learned to watch "Nezha: The Devil Boy Comes into the World" on a tablet. While watching, he pointed the tower at the screen and cursed: "What the hell are you making this up! How can my son be so ugly!"
I wanted to open a high-style Qingqing bar, but it turned out to be a group of magical "human Internet cafes" and "psychological consultation rooms".
Okay, as long as they don't break my bar again.
